


jan's a living nightmare

by hailingstars



Series: unbelievably unlikely (febuwhump 2020) [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Baking, Bingo, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Knitting, Peter is outraged, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark is Good With Kids, Tony has beef with a pta mother, Tony is alive, febuwhump 2020, in a fun way, pta, retirement turned Tony into a grandma, this one is quite ridiculous
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:54:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22548118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hailingstars/pseuds/hailingstars
Summary: Peter dropped his overnight bag on the floor to announce his arrival, but none of the Starks gave him any attention. Pepper focused on her work, Morgan on her coloring, and more strangely, Tony on the pair of knitting needles in his hands.“Um,” said Peter. “What’s going on? Why does it look like a craft sweatshop in here?”“Daddy’s practicing his knitting,” answered Morgan. She kept her eyes on her picture, but at least she had the decency to answer him.“I’m not practicing,” said Tony, his hands working the knitting needles quickly and effectively. Peter had to admit the stitches looked pretty skillful. “I’m perfecting. My sweaters already ions better than Jan’s, anything else is just an added bonus.”Peter wandered further into the living room, sort of hesitant, sort of afraid. “Um, who’s Jan?”“Peter,” said Pepper, releasing a long, weary sigh. “Please don’t ask.”“Daddy says that Jan’s a bitch.”ORTony joins the PTA and forms a rivalry with another parent that Peter inevitably gets involved in.Febuwhump day 3: living nightmare
Relationships: Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: unbelievably unlikely (febuwhump 2020) [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1619662
Comments: 81
Kudos: 1015
Collections: Best Tony and Peter, ellie marvel fics - read





	jan's a living nightmare

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frostysunflowers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/gifts).



> daaayyy three 
> 
> I wanted to spend more time with this one but got food poisoning last night (as well as procrastinated for weeks lmao), so hopefully it's still okay!! 
> 
> this fic couldn't have existed without the amazing frostysunflowers!! she named the infamous jan and gave me tons of ideas for this one!!

The lake house living room was covered in yarn. There were unfurled rolls of every color, nestled in baskets, surrounding the armchair Tony sat in. There were stacks of knitted sweaters sitting on the coffee table, on the space on the couch next to Pepper, and under the window. Morgan laid on the hard wood floor, belly down, coloring, but also nestled in a sea of hand knitted socks.

Peter dropped his overnight bag on the floor to announce his arrival, but none of the Starks gave him any attention. Pepper focused on her work, Morgan on her coloring, and more strangely, Tony on the pair of knitting needles in his hands.

“Um,” said Peter. “What’s going on? Why does it look like a craft sweatshop in here?”

“Daddy’s practicing his knitting,” answered Morgan. She kept her eyes on her picture, but at least she had the decency to answer him.

“I’m not practicing,” said Tony, his hands working the knitting needles quickly and effectively. Peter had to admit the stitches looked pretty skillful. “I’m perfecting. My sweaters already ions better than Jan’s, anything else is just an added bonus.”

Peter wandered further into the living room, sort of hesitant, sort of afraid. “Um, who’s Jan?”

“Peter,” said Pepper, releasing a long, weary sigh. “Please don’t ask.”

“Daddy says that Jan’s a bitch.”

“Uh, no, honey, remember dad said she’s a _witch_ ,” said Tony, cutting in quick, with a tremble in his voice as his eyes momentarily darted away from his knitting and over to Pepper.

Morgan’s hand stopped moving across her coloring sheet, and she sat up, her eyes widening with understanding. “Oh yeaaaah.” She looked at Pepper. “He said witch.”

“For god’s sake, Tony, this is why the other parents don’t like you.”

“The other parents love me. It’s just _Jan_.”

The name was said with so much disdain Peter might have thought he was talking about Thanos or the other Peter, not some women with a middle-aged sounding name.

“Okay, I’m lost,” said Peter. He plopped down on the floor next to Morgan. “Somebody fill me in.”

It was a tale Peter didn’t fully know if he understood and had started with Tony being desperately bored during the day. So bored, Pepper had gotten fed up with him trying to interfere at SI and told him he should join the PTA for Morgan’s kindergarten class.

“That was the biggest mistake of my life,” said Pepper, before Tony went on with the story.

He described the PTA as a nice group of parents headed by the monster Jan, who took an instant disliking to him. Her transgressions included telling Tony the wrong time for meetings, suggesting Morgan was a bad influence on the children, and other petty things. He ended with a transgression Peter couldn’t disagree with.

“She called me old enough to be Morgan’s grandfather,” Tony told them.

“Mr. Stark…” said Peter. “I don’t know how to break this to you, but you are pretty old.”

Tony growled and one knitting needle slipped off the other.

“Retirement’s been really weird for you, huh?”

“Guess this just means I’ll give the sweater I made you to someone else,” he said, regaining his control over the knitting needles and refocusing on his stitches. 

“What?” asked Peter. He scrambled up off the floor and looked around. Tony pointed to a stack of sweaters folded neatly in the corner of the room.

“You made one for me?” asked Peter, pulling the red and blue sweater off the top of the stack and holding it up. There was a black spider stitched on the front.

“You don’t have to we –“

“Are you kidding? This is awesome!” Peter had already pulled the sweater over his head. “It’s like having a grandma!”

“My husband,” said Pepper. “The iron grandma.”

Peter straightened his new favorite sweater over his chest. It was the warmest hug, but there was something missing.

“… Mr. Stark,” said Peter. “You think you could knit me some matching socks?”

“No.”

Peter felt his excitement melt away. “Oh, ok – “

“But I can teach you how to knit your own.”

“Yes!”

Peter spent the rest of the evening learning how to knit, being told by Tony that the knitting needles were neither weapons nor toys and enjoying every minute of it.

*

The next time Peter visited the lake house he’d thought he and Mr. Stark were going to be in the garage, working out a few suit upgrades, but instead, as soon as he shut the front door behind him, he was shouted at to join Mr. Stark in the kitchen.

He ditched his overnight bag in the foyer and braced himself as he wandered off towards the kitchen. Something weird was probably going on. Retirement seemed to drive Mr. Stark insane, and once he walked through the archway and into the kitchen, Peter was sure he was right.

It had been transformed from the last time Peter saw it. Instead of looking like a nice family kitchen, it looked a lot like the set on one of those baking competition shows he and May watched together after dinner.

Mr. Stark had a pink stripy apron tied around his waist, a hairnet on his head, and a wooden spoon stuck behind his ear.

“Mr. Stark what’s going on…?”

The smell hit him as he walked further in the kitchen, the most amazing smell. It propelled his legs to walk over to the counter where a fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies sat on one of the many cooling racks. He stretched out his arm, his hand hovered over the biggest cookie, only for Tony to slap it away with a spatula.

“Hey!” said Peter, waving his hand around. “That hurt.”

“It did not.”

“Well it burned at least.”

“Don’t be a baby,” Tony told him. “And it serves you right.”

Peter muttered under his breath and surveyed the kitchen once more. “Does Pepper know what you’ve done to her kitchen?”

“She does. She’s not thrilled, but she doesn’t have a say. I kicked her out.”

“What?” It didn’t sound right. Peter tried to picture a world in which Mr. Stark had the authority to kick Pepper out of any room. 

“She refused to wear a hairnet,” Mr. Stark went on. “Speaking of – “

A hairnet flew at Peter and he caught it. “My hair’s not even that long!”

“Tell it to someone who cares,” snipped Tony. “I’ll be damned if Jan finds a hair in one of my cookies.”

“Not Jan again,” said Peter, with a groan.

Mr. Stark was keeping him up to date on his battle with Jan through text message and phone calls. He didn’t understand what their deal was, why the two of them hated each other so damn much.

“She’s a menace, Pete,” said Mr. Stark. He waved the spatula at him. “She’s a living nightmare.”

Peter rolled his eyes and put the hairnet over his head, deciding to humor the old man. “So what’s the mission?”

“Tonight,” said Mr. Stark. “We’re making cookies. We’re making ten times the amount of cookies Jan will make, and not only that, they will sell better than hers at the school bake sale.”

Peter nodded and got to work. He let Mr. Stark order him around the kitchen, let him tell him he was stirring too hard or not hard enough or he took a batch out just a couple of seconds too soon and now they had to throw them all away. By the end of the night, they were both covered in sugar and flour, apron included, and Peter was exhausted.

“Mr. Starrrkk,” croaked Peter, half his body leaned up against the kitchen counter. “Can I please have a cookie now?”

“I suppose you’ve earned it.”

Peter didn’t move, but just a few short seconds later, Mr. Stark was putting a plate with three cookies and a glass of milk on the counter in front of him. He sat straight up and shoved one into his mouth.

“So, what do you think? Are we gonna outsell Jan?”

Peter nodded. “She doesn’t even stand a chance.”

*

A few weeks after Mr. Stark’s victory at the elementary school bake sell fundraiser, Peter sat in Morgan’s school auditorium between Pepper and Happy and watched his little sister in the play. He watched Mr. Stark, too. His mentor had wrestled the one adult role away from Jan’s clutches and proudly performed along-side his daughter.

He wore a large yellow dress, what Peter could only guess was a bra stuffed with toilet paper and a grey wig. If he hadn’t become Iron Man, thought Peter, he might have a nice career as an actor.

He was expressive and funny, and most of all, the kids adored him. They were all so caught up with his act, it was though they were all just playing pretend among themselves, and not for an audience.

There was just one hang up, with a black-haired kid forgot their lines, but luckily, Morgan knew them. She whispered them into their ear.

After the play ended, Peter stood with Mr. Stark out in the hallway, waiting for Morgan to say goodbye to her friends.

She walked into the hallway to join them just as Mr. Stark started to adjust his fake boobs, muttering something about finally understanding why Pepper complained so much about bras being uncomfortable.

“There she is!” said Mr. Stark, once he saw Morgan. “The star of the play! Morguna, I’m gonna need your autograph right now before you become too famous and busy to deal with your dear old pops.”

Morgan laughed. “I’ll never be too busy for you.”

“Oh really? Can I get that in writing? I think I’m gonna need it when you turn into a teenage monster like your brother.”

“Pete isn’t a monster,” said Morgan. “He’s too polite.”

A terrible, spine curling sound of heels clicking against the floor invaded their private, family moment. Peter turned and saw Mr. Stark’s archenemies Jan dragging her child, Peter recognized him as the boy who’d forgotten his lines, down the school hallway.

“Did I raise an idiot?” she asked him, in a low tone.

“Mom – “

“No,” she cut him off. “I don’t want to hear it. When we get home, you’re memorizing those lines or you can say goodbye your PlayStation goodbye.”

“But mom,” he whined. “What’s the point? The play’s over.”

She stopped, bent down, and yanked him forward. “The point is next time there’s a play you won’t forget you’re lines, will you?”

He didn’t answer her, but it was the smart move. It wasn’t asked in a tone that was meant to be answered.

They watched Jan and her son leave the hall in complete silence. Peter only felt comfortable talking once he was sure they were gone.

“Mr. Stark,” he said. “I understand now why we hate Jan.”

Mr. Stark simply nodded.

“I think you were right the first time, dad,” said Morgan. “Jan’s a bitch.”

No one corrected her.

*

It was a petty thing, Peter knew, what they were doing. He knew it was petty when he fake called in sick to school, knew it was even more so petty when Mr. Stark had lied to Pepper about where they were going when they climbed into the car and raced off to the rec center for bingo day.

They stormed into the building pumped with adrenaline, ready to beat Jan at her favorite pastime, bingo.

Mr. Stark had a plan. He’d buy as many cards as they would allow him to, which turned out be way too many cards. Peter watched as Mr. Stark lined them up on the fold-up table they claimed.

“I don’t know,” said Peter, scratching his head. “Are you sure we can keep up with all these?”

“Pete, we’re geniuses,” said Mr. Stark. “Of course we can.”

A breeze blew in from the open window, causing the cards to blow off the table and scatter all around on the floor. Peter was on the ground, collecting them, when he felt a dark presence hover from above. He stood, the bingo cards in hand, and came face to face with the Jan.

She looked Peter up and down and a made a tsk-tsk noise, before directing her glare to Mr. Stark. “I didn’t know you played bingo, Tony.”

“I don’t really. Thought I’d give it a shot.”

“And at my rec center? What are the odds?”

Mr. Stark smirked. “I can understand why you’d be intimidated, since both my sweaters and my cookies sold better than yours. Wouldn’t want to lose to me a third time and all that.”

Jan laughed and it was equally terrible as the sound of nails sliding against a chalkboard. “Oh, you won’t beat me a bingo, but I’m sure you’ll try your best with that metal claw of yours, bless your heart.”

“You can’t talk to Mr. Stark that way,” said Peter, taking a step forward.

“Down boy,” said he, putting a hand on his shoulder and pulling him backwards, just as Jan’s shoes clicked against the floor and she walked over to her table. “We’ll let our game speak for itself.”

“Okay,” said Peter, nodding his head, until he realized that didn’t make any sense. “You’re aware that bingo is a game of chance, right?”

“Maybe, but we have dozens of cards and twice the amount of eyes. Odds are favorable.” He sat down while Peter lined the cards back up on the table. “Get your head in the game. Keep your eyes sharp and your marker ready.”

Peter nodded as he sat down. The two of them uncapped their bingo markers at the same time and wore faces that suggested they took this just as seriously as they did every other Avenger’s mission.

It was petty, Peter knew, as he kept his eyes peeled and slammed his marker down on the squares that were called out. It was petty, but petty was all they had, the only shot they could take at Jan.

Not even Spider-Man and Iron Man couldn’t protect a child from their emotionally abusive parent, but they could beat them at bingo.

And that’s exactly what they did.

It was Peter who ended up screeching bingo at the top of his lungs. His eyes shifted to Jan right after he did and saw her delightfully defeated face. It was better than the fifty-dollar gift card to Olive Garden he got for winning, a gift card Mr. Stark let him keep for himself.

Their spirits were high they walked back into the lake house, only to come crashing down when Pepper greeted them at the door.

“Did you two happen to go play bingo today?” she asked.

“Um,” said Peter. He pulled the gift card out of his pocket and offered it to her. “Do you like Olive Garden?”

Pepper let out an exasperated sigh. “Really, Tony? Aiden called Morgan and said he can’t come to her birthday party unless her mean dad apologizes to his mom.”

“Apologize?!?” asked Peter, his voice going high. “That’s an outrage! We didn’t do anything besides win! She’s the one disrespecting Mr. Stark!”

Mr. Stark only chuckled and pulled his phone from his pocket. “I got her number in my phone, I’ll give her a call.”

“WHAT?”

“Relax, Pete,” said Mr. Stark, walking away, with the phone pressed to his ear. “It isn’t for her. It’s for Morgan, and Aiden. God knows he should see what a loving home feels like.”

Peter watched Mr. Stark disappear into another room, disappear to apologize to the devil herself. Apologize for doing nothing, except winning. The unfairness of it out ate away at Peter, though it was soon replaced by some clarity, by an awareness about how lucky he really was.

Mr. Stark was his grandma and his grandpa and his dad, the same way May had to both his mom and his dad once Ben died.

He was lucky in that he was surrounded by great people, that he never lacked love, even if he was missing two parents and an uncle. That he still had people to teach him what was truly important, and sometimes, that you had to apologize to the devil.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!! 
> 
> kudos and/or comments let me know what you think!!
> 
> [or come shout at me on tumblr](https://hailing-stars.tumblr.com)


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